honey & homesickness

malady

Do not feed this thing inside you,
Do not let it make its home
In your tenderness—
Ignore those hunger pains,
That gnawing in your chest.
It lives in the vacancies,
That rotten, empty underbelly,
That cold, sun-bleached spine,
It takes bite-size pieces
Off your razor-sharpened bones.
And little by little, you wither away,
Curled up on its forked tongue.
It will try to consume you
And prey on that crooked place
In your aching mind—
Do not feed this thing inside you,
This grisly, starved obsession.
Loosen your rusted jaw
And take back your tenderness,
That warmth in your rib cage
And the tenacity in your spine.
Take back your dusty body
And leave this thing to dry out,
Take its turn in decay.
Let it find its way into your throat,
Let it wilt every time you speak,
Every time you swallow—
You are not this thing inside you.